Rest in the Bed
by souloftheocean
Summary: "This is an upper level creative writing capstone. Most of you will end up dropping, unable to deal with the course load and all that is expected from you," Sherlock lectured. Zoe snuck a peek around at her classmates not all that surprised to see a few get up and leave after hearing the requirements.
1. Chapter 1

She had heard stories about her professor circulating over the last semester. She didn't know much of Mr. Holmes besides what she had overheard in the libraries or hallways and she wasn't sure how she felt about him.

Zoe had spent the last four months trying to get used to her new campus, keeping to herself, studying and writing numerous papers. It wasn't the smartest move she had made, transferring on a whim in the middle of her college career, but she had to do something.

She waited outside the fourth floor classroom of the Humanities building along with her other classmates around the locked door. She kept glancing at her watch and along the hall for her professor. Two minutes until the start of lecture a tall man in a long dark coat swiftly strode down the hall muttering under his breath stopping once he reached their door.

"Damn Mycroft, not giving me the key," he growled pulling it out of his pocket, unlocking the door and throwing it open.

"In."

Students rushed forward taking seats in the tiny desks. Zoe was unsure where to sit, hesitating for a few moments. She didn't want to sit right up front, that would leave her a prime target and she didn't like full attention placed on her. She settled for a desk in the far left near the window in the second row and quietly sat. Still up close to see, but not directly in eyesight. A window to gather her thoughts at if lectures became too intense.

They jumped slightly when the door was slammed shut, eyes on their professor as he moved to lean against the front of his desk, refusing to remove his long coat. Zoe pulled her own tighter around herself and waited.

"This is an upper level creative writing capstone. Most of you will end up dropping, unable to deal with the course load and all that is expected from you. You are to write twenty to twenty five poems if you write poetry and thirty to thirty five pages for prose and non-fiction. You will write a proposal for what your project will cover. We will meet one on one where I will approve your semester project if I see fit. I will pass around a sign up sheet for conference times starting tomorrow morning until Friday. When you arrive your five page proposal will be due."

The dark haired man reached over into his bag pulling out a sheet of paper. Zoe snuck a peek around at her classmates and wasn't all that surprised to see a few get up and leave. She watched Mr. Holmes give a smirk when the door opened and closed before walking over and handing the paper to the student in front of her. She caught his eyes briefly before looking down into her bag to get a pen. Being the second person to sign up she didn't have much time to decide in advance what day to pick. She didn't want to wait until the last day and have him think she was lazy, but she didn't even know what she wanted her project to consist of.

"Excuse me, Miss.."

She jumped slightly looking up as her professor called her out.

"Hathaway, sorry sir."

"Just _pick_ a date. It doesn't matter, and get on with it."

She chose that Wednesday, early in the morning and turned to give the paper to the person behind her who glared before snatching it out of her hand. Zoe remained silent and spent the remainder of the class half listening to the syllabus and looking out the window. When it came time for the lecture to end Zoe was stopped just outside the classroom door.

"I would appreciate it if you would pay attention in my classroom Miss Ryan and not stare out the window."

Zoe gripped her hand on her bag and turned to face her professor who was slinging his own bag over his shoulder.

"Sorry sir," she mumbled.

"American," he frowned.

Zoe glanced at her watch. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm going to be late for my next lecture."

He nodded, brushing past her, "Afternoon."

Relieved that the conversation had ended she followed him out the door not at all surprised to find he had already left the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

Zoe spent most of Tuesday trying to write her proposal for Professor Holmes. She left her dorm occasionally to pick up tea, but for the most part she stayed locked in and read a few pages her other professors assigned, thankful it wasn't already too much.

Despite her good intentions of having the paper complete, she couldn't get past the first paragraph. To be fair the instructions hadn't been very clear. That was one of the main stories Zoe had heard about him. He never explained much, just assumed that students knew what to do.

She sat in the computer lab staring at her work. "Over the course of this semester I would like to explore and connect the themes of change as well as progress in the human condition." She leaned back in her chair and debated deleting the entire document and just dropping the class. Maybe if she was honest from the beginning and admitted that she really was only grasping at straws he wouldn't think her as stupid as she felt. It was his job as a professor to help and give her suggestions. Deciding it would have to do she hit print, gathered her belongings and stopped off for a cup of tea before heading to her meeting.

Zoe wasn't surprised to find Professor Holmes' door shut. Her anger flickered slightly. What professor sets up an appointment and then not show? She found a chair near the door and sat down. Taking a sip of tea she realized her hands were shaking once again and decided it was best to grip the cup with both hands. Hearing floorboards creak she looked over and saw her professor.

"Apologies, Miss Ryan," he took a key out of his coat and unlocked the door.

"It's alright," Zoe gathered her bag.

He went over to his desk and began unbuttoning his coat, throwing it over his chair along with his scarf. She stayed in the doorway, staring around his office. It was remarkable. Books covered the floor to ceiling shelves. She then noticed the skull and her eyes widened slightly and Zoe herd him chuckle.

"Shall we get started?" Professor Holmes pointed at the empty chair across the desk as he sat down.

"Yes," Zoe unzipped her bag and pulled out her paper with one hand, the other still holding her cup and gave it to him.

"This is barely a paragraph."

"I know, I was hoping you could give me some suggestions on what to write."

"Change in the human condition?"

"It was just an idea; I'm not really sure what I was trying to say exactly." Zoe coughed and took a sip of tea.

Sherlock set down the paper and studied her. "Write about your disorder."

"I don't have any disorders," she said sternly, all nervousness gone.

"I beg to differ."

"What'd you mean?"

"Your body states otherwise. Your hands are shaking and were shaking in class."

"It's winter."

"Your blood sugar is probably low."

"What are you, a doctor?"

"You have teeth shaped scars on the back of your index and middle knuckles of your left hand."

Zoe quickly shook her sleeve down and clenched her jaw.

"On that note, your jaw is swollen. How many times a day? I'd say at least four. Need I continue?" He lifted a hand and waved it. He didn't give her a chance to speak before starting again. "You most likely left America due to loved ones being concerned and wanting to remain in your disorder until you killed yourself."

Zoe stood, swung her bag not caring that she knocked an object off his desk and headed towards the door. "I'm dropping your class."

"Well that much is obvious now that your little secret has been discovered someone will know and you'll start to feel guilt when you engage in behaviors. Do not mistake my being right as caring. You can say you're going to drop the class all you want but you won't."

"And how would you know?"

"Because writing is the only release you have that doesn't destroy you."

Zoe's hand tightened on the strap of her bag and she glared at the man who had figured out what took others nearly ten years.

"I have a friend who is taking clients," he said steeping his fingers together and leaning back in his chair.

"I don't need to see anyone. If you would excuse me, Professor," Zoe turned again.

"Miss Ryan, have a seat."

"I believe I already said I'm dropping the class."

"You and I both know that isn't going to happen. One more time, Miss Ryan, please have a seat. My friend actually specializes in disorders such as your own and owes me a favor of sorts."

"I don't have the funds to pay for it. I'm already in debt to student loans."

"Her name is Irene Adler," Sherlock continued again ignoring her as she moved to sit back down. "She will see you free of charge. Seeing her as well as taking my class and writing about the change and progress you're working towards with her will give you your capstone project."

Zoe fiddled with the paper sleeve of her cup, trying to process everything, avoiding eye contact. She heard him let out a sigh.

"A few years ago I disappeared for a while after doing something unforgivable in front of a friend. Scarred him for life. I understand the desire to simply not exist anymore. But coming back to life is a beautiful process and I'm sure your loved ones over in the states would be glad to see you alive again. I urge you to take my offer."

"This is so daunting."

"Is that a yes?"

"I...yes."


End file.
